hit

"you know" said high school, "i always forget that while i've lived here for 8 diggity years, that i live two blocks away from the dakota"

"you mean THE dakota?" i replied

"yes"

"of john lennon got shot in front of fame?"

"yes, where yoko lives"

"wow, it's a nice building. who'd have thunk?"

so there i am in front of the building with high school wrapping up dinner at señor swankys, shooting the shinola about the last three months of catch up (as i haven't had dinner with high school in three months) and along comes mos def. he looks like he's waiting for a ride. or he looks suspicious but, the bastard hadn't quite worked that out yet but either way, we continued the catchup when we hear the tell tale screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech...thump of someone getting hit by a car. i stop. mos def starts to head out into the street and high school asks if someone got hit, as her back was to the street. mos def heads back to his spot as a gentleman comes out from the spot where the hit occured, phone in hand, still talking, dusting off his pant leg and continued his walk down 72nd street, still talking, still walking. i looked at mos def, mos def looked at me and we were flummoxed. before mos could get more than "well.." out i say, "i guess that was a really important phone call"

"i guess"

"or he's made out of iron"

"maybe"

shortly after that, mos def's ride arrived and he was off. i frikkin loved him in hitchhikers guide to the galaxy. you know, the bastard knows that's it's 10 to midnight but, i think i might have to watch that flick right now.

—the bastard